


Watered Down Prayers

by uruhead



Category: RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Thor (Movies) RPF, avengers rpf
Genre: Angel!Tom, Bisexual Chris Hemsworth, Bisexuality, Fallen Angel, Farmer!Chris, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4755428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uruhead/pseuds/uruhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris' parents are too old to continue the large part of the farm, and Luke and Liam have already moved away to do other things (like have families and a life). Chris is fine with continuing his work as a farmer, so he stays. His faith in God hasn't really changed much over the past decade or two, but it's about to be thrown for a huge loop once a particularly beautiful "meteor" lands in an empty field in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diamondcalavera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondcalavera/gifts).



> this is literally a spur of the moment kind of thing. I got this idea from [this beautiful edit](http://lookslikehiddlesworth.tumblr.com/post/127186538887/fantasy-mythology-au-s-1angel-au-please) and i wanted to see if i can do it. i've been working on like 3 different things that i want to perfect but i just want this to be fun and little. will post eventual chapters eventually. hopefully everything goes well for this dumb fic lol

Chris’ prayers were always soft, always so subtle - background noise, really, and Chris didn’t think much of it, anyway. Prayer wasn’t his forte, anyway. His parents were older, his brothers moved off (though Luke lived 30 miles to the west and sometimes came around to help), Chris was basically alone on the farm to do what he was going to do.

 

His prayers were nothing but habit at this point.

 

“Thank you for this food, thank you for the good weather. Please let my parents sleep well, and let the calf be healthy. Amen.”

 

It was a quick kneel by the side of the bed before bed, and if he remembered he would pray before he had food.

 

His faith wasn’t deep, but he knew that God had an eye on him, and that he wasn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t go to church, but he did his best to show his gratitude for the little things that happened. Karma, in the Christian way.

 

Chris would leave out bowls of dog food mixed with grease out for the dingos because he felt sad when they were so skinny. He had a greenhouse and watered each of those plants individually when they needed it. The rest of the farm was manned by automated sprinklers, and he hired hands during harvest season and planting season for a few weeks to get everything picked up or patted down. He paid well, he smiled at passerby, and he knew that things would come when they did.

 

But, wow. Did they come.

 

\--

 

Chris had never seen a meteor… asteroid… whatever it was… come down from the sky. Shooting stars were common, sure, but they would usually burn up in the atmosphere at such great temperatures. He didn’t think anything of it when he was able to see them, but this one was… different.

 

He watched from his deck, seeing it streak down with its brilliant hues, so bright he had to squint until everything blurred. It looked like it was coming down fast enough that it would plummet straight through the earth, but that wasn’t the case. It landed somewhere about, at Chris’ estimation, 4 miles out from his house, in the middle of the empty field (thank God) with a large boom that shook Chris down to the bones.

 

Less than 5 minutes later, Chris’ landline was ringing all too loudly.

 

He picked it up, “Mhm?”

 

“Did you hear that, Kip? I saw it coming down, but I didn’t know it was going to be that loud!”

 

Chris shook his head and chuckled. His parents were always such the worriers, but Chris didn’t mind it. He liked it when they called - and being 10 miles on the other side of the farm meant that they could see anything that happened between his house and their little rancher any time of the day or night. “I’ll check it out in the morning. No one is around here anyway, so it’s not like there will be any trespassers or anything.”

 

“Oh, do be careful. Your father says to be careful too! Don’t be running around that thing. Might be aliens.” He could hear his mother’s smile across the 10-mile gap between them, even without the phone.

 

“Shush, you. Night.”

 

Chris hung up the phone and went back to his nightly routine. He kept an eye out on the smoky horizon from the dust and steam rising off of the crater, but filled up the dog food bowls with some leftover meatloaf from a few nights ago that he wasn’t going to eat and split it between the two evenly and filled the rest up with dry dog food.

 

He set it out on the front porch, filling up the water dish at the same time, and then headed inside.

 

Shuffling next to his bed, he kicked off his boots and his socks, his jeans and his shirt, kneeling down on the hardwood floor and lacing his fingers together.

 

“Thank you for another day. Thank you for my parent’s safety - and please keep an eye out for that pregnant dingo. Though I know her babies will get into my trash, I still hope that she’ll be alright. Amen.”

 

He crawled into bed, relaxing under the quilt and shutting off the lamp beside him to finally sleep.

 

\--

 

Chris didn’t wake for the little scuttles on his front porch. He had long learned that the scuffles that happened there weren’t exactly the worst, and any animals that decided to duke it out there would eventually limp off. He had locked the door, it wasn’t a problem.

 

He did wake, however, at the sound of something shaking the front door.

 

Chris’ eyes slid open and he glanced to his bedroom door first, like he was testing if he had actually heard the sound.

 

His door rattled again, and that’s when he finally got up. It was warm enough at night that he didn’t have to get much on, so he just slipped his boots on without socks and headed down the stairs cautiously.

 

Again, the rattling came from the front door, and as soon as it came into sight Chris could easily see the humanoid shape from behind the screen. The human’s body seemed like it was glowing slightly, a dull haze around their silhouette as they desperately shook at the front door.

 

Taking extra loud steps to scare the intruder off, Chris neared the door with a bellow, “What do you think you’re doing!?”

 

The person froze, eyes going wide enough for Chris to see them in the dark. They scrambled back, fell onto their back, tumbled off the edge of the porch and down the stairs. It was quite a pitiful sight, and Chris had fallen down those stairs enough to know how much it hurt. He didn’t have time to sympathize - this bastard was trying to break into his house!

 

Chris unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open, squaring his shoulders and yelling. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

 

Holding up their hands, the person cowered on the ground and whimpered. They didn’t say anything, only making unintelligible sounds, loud and confusing. Under slightly closer inspection, it looked like the person was covered in soot, dirt, and… no clothes. They were completely naked.

 

“Answer me! Is this a joke? Where are your clothes?”

 

Pushing back with their feet  to slide along the dirt, the person shook their head. “..N..o! No!”

 

“No?” Chris hissed. “What do you mean, no?” He stomped down the stairs toward the person. He wasn’t looking too hard, but it looked like the person had a penis - a he, then.

Possibly.

 

The naked man shook his head harder and started to crawl backwards as fast as he could, but Chris caught up to him fast. He snatched the man by his upper arm and yanked him up fast.

Chris got the strong whiff of watered down meatloaf and dog food, seeing that it was smeared all along the man’s hands and mouth, and that his body was covered in something sticker and smellier than soot and dirt.

 

Mud was his first, instant conclusion, but that wasn’t it. It was blood.

 

Dropping the man suddenly, Chris’ eyes wide, he stepped back.

 

The man put his hands over his head and bent over to put his face down near his knees. His back was rippled with ridges, two giant bloodied marks tearing down his shoulderblades to point to his spine. They were still oozing with blackish blood, and Chris’ stomach dropped and twisted at the same time. He felt like he was going to puke.

 

It was quiet for a moment, his eyes flicking over the carnage on the man’s back.

 

Chris swallowed, then knelt slowly. He reached out his hand and pressed his fingertips to the man’s shoulder.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

 

The man shook and looked up at Chris, shaking his head. “N… No.”


	2. Chapter 2

It looked awful, and Chris couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like. The wounds on the man’s back were deep and looked jagged. They were caked with dirt, and had bits sticking out that looked like feathers, but Chris couldn’t be sure until he really took a closer look.

 

The man was easily persuaded inside, getting him to the sink to wash off his hands and face from the dog food he had just eaten. The man’s stomach growled like it was completely void of anything, but the man seemed more startled by the sound than the fact that it seemed like he had been rinsed clean of any food. Chris honestly had no idea what the matter was with this dude - he looked completely normal other than the gashes on his back. The glowing thing wasn’t even there any more.

 

Chris gave him some boxers to wear and covered his legs with a blanket before he sat them down at the kitchen table and started to rinse off the man’s back.

 

The gashes were deep and made Chris’ chest hurt even just looking at them. He didn’t bother to ask about them, seeing the way that the man’s body shook hard when he even got close to them. Instead, Chris asked gently about whatever else he could pry from him.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

No response.

 

“How about - where are you from?”

 

Again, nothing. The man just shook like a leaf in the wind, hands clutching onto the blanket over his knees. He looked tired and scared. The bags under his eyes could rival Chris’ own, and the honest fear was palpable.

 

Chris stayed quiet for a while, slowly trying to clean the wounds on the man’s back, and even pushing in a little to see if he could find some actual flesh instead of all this dirt.

 

It was surprising when he finally hit bone, his fingers touching it too hard and making the man wince beneath him.

 

“No! No, no!” he yelped, and Chris backed off immediately. The man wrapped his arms around his torso and shook his head, though his fingers seemed like they were reaching for the deep gashes on his back.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. Hey, you’re fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll be gentle.”

 

Chris reached to get back to work, but the man scooted away, shaking his head again. He lay his forehead on the table with a loud thunk and started to cry. His hands came down and clasped together awkwardly, fingers bunching together before finally knotting together tight.

 

Chris noticed the way that he started to mumble, nothing that Chris could understand, but knew the gesture. He was praying.

 

Chris blinked a few times before he leaned over to put his elbows on his knees, setting the wet rag he was cleaning the man’s wounds with down on the ground and folded his hands as well.

 

The man stopped when he felt Chris’ stillness, heard it, and looked up. He saw Chris’ hands folded as well, and Chris saw the slightest residue of a smile slide upon his lips. The man grabbed Chris’ hands and nodded softly, as if giving him permission to pray for them both.

 

Swallowing, Chris nodded his head feebly. He bowed his head, staring at their hands and started a gentle prayer. “Thank you, Lord, for letting this man be safe tonight. I’m sure you’ve brought him into my care for a reason, and I’m glad that you trust me so. Thank you for the roof over my head for another day, and my parent’s good health. I pray that you’ll keep an eye on this man, make sure that he’s alright even when he goes. I’ll keep him in my thoughts because you brought him to me, and I will not forget your trust. Amen.”

 

\--

 

It took a while, but finally Chris got the man to go to the bathroom and nearly scrub out the wounds to get all the dirt from them. The man cried and sniffled, but continued urging Chris on with a hasty wave of his hand. When they were finally rinsed down with the last bit of hydrogen peroxide that he had, the wounds looked irritatedly red, but obviously they were healing already.

 

It seemed like a giant weight off of the man’s shoulders, seeing him roll his shoulders back and -- what the _fuck_ \--

 

Two, white wings nearly exploded out of the man’s back, magically sealing up the gaping tears on his back and smashing Chris against the wall with the force and size of the damned things.

 

Chris’ eyes were wide as he watched the wings flutter and re-acclimate to their surroundings, little soft feathers drifting all around the room like someone had had a pillow fight in his bathtub. The wings smashed into things and shoved toiletries off of shelves, everything nearly pushed out of place or broken by the time they finally settled comfortably (kind of) onto the man’s back.

 

When the man finally looked at Chris, seeing his genuine surprise and more than a little fear, he stood up and rushed out of the bathroom, veering down the hall and out the door. Chris noticed he looked happy, beaming, his eyes bright, pallor healthy and face well-rested.

 

Sitting crumpled against the wall in the bathroom, the shattered bits of mirror and little tufts of feathers, Chris heard cheering and whooping from outside the house.

 

What the _fuck?_


	3. Chapter 3

Unsurprisingly, Chris found no joy running out into the yard and seeing the man flying around in the air like a dumb bird, hollering enthusiastically and swooping down low to pick at the grass and dig his feet into the earth when he landed. He landed and took off so many times, leaving skid marks everywhere. His giant wings were leaving feathers all over the place, falling down like snow all around Chris, and he was  _ actually glowing _ .

  


Chris’ eyes were bugged as he watched the man finally land once more and run over to Chris, arms extended like he was going to hug him. Chris held out his hands and stopped the man in the chest before he could get that far.

  


The winged man’s eyes were still overjoyed, his body nearly humming with happiness. His chest was still up against Chris’ hands, arms still extended for a hug. He was warm and radiated a comfortable, cozy heat that seeped deep into Chris’ bones and blood. Chris’ arms went slightly weak and dropped, leaving the man open to give him a firm hug around the neck.

  


“Thank you!” the man cheered. “Thank you, thank you! I knew, the moment I saw you, you’d be the one. I didn’t think - He said - you were...!” The man made an exasperated sound like “guh!” before shaking his head and pulling back to look Chris in the eye.

  


Chris’ face was pale as paper and he couldn’t stop shaking, the wings fluttering behind the man and those  _ dumb feathers  _ still floating down around them.

  


“W… what?” he asked, mouth dry.

  


The winged man laughed. “My name is Thomas. I was watching you from heaven, and I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted to be your guardian angel so badly. You have always been so faithful, and so kind. You’re the exact kind of person that I want to bring to heaven one day, and I knew - I felt, deep in here…” Thomas tapped his chest, over his sternum. “You’d have to have something  _ big _ happen. He gave me a bit of a hint, of course but… Wow. You’ve gone above and beyond what I would have expected.”

  


Heaven. So, an angel. A guardian angel.

  


“ _ What? _ ”  Chris repeated.

  


Thomas threw his head back and snorted. “Come on, you’ve already seen my wings… I’m your new guardian angel! I can watch over you from now on. Well, I’ve been watching you for some time, but now it’s closer, and… Less mysterious, I suppose. We’re not supposed to intervene like this, so of course I’m a little in the wrong, but…”

  


The angel’s eyes slipped slightly to the left, beyond Chris’ shoulder, but he came back to look Chris directly in the eyes again. His eyes were so purely blue, and his smile perfectly white. It made Chris feel like he were going to faint.

  


“You made me whole again. Mostly. There’s a little that you can’t do, it’s all on me, but -- that’s not your problem. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

  


Thomas continued to beam, his hands still on Chris’ shoulders at arms length. He watched Chris for a bit, the pale moonlight on the ground making everything look silver, but Thomas’ “natural” glow seemed to light up everything around them.

  


Slowly coming to the conclusion that this might, possibly,  _ not  _ be a dream, Chris nodded slowly and patted Thomas’ bicep. “Alright. We’ll go inside, now. I need a drink.”

  


\--

  


Thomas’ wings were incredibly annoying, but Chris learned to put things on higher shelves to avoid the low sweep of the long feathers near the floor. There was a high line of cups, dishes, and boots nearer to the ceiling and large spaces where the wings would continually swish by. Thomas’ wings, however, were very soft, and Chris liked them very much.

  


It had been a few days, Chris introducing Tom (they had discussed this in length, though eventually Thomas had been rather acquiescent about being called Tom instead of Thomas, liking the nickname) to the wonders of the farm, from the large fields of crops he had down to the very small herd of cattle he owned about 15 miles to the south. There were a few horses mixed in with the bunch, mainly making sure that the cattle were safe and very rarely for riding, but all was fine.

  


The first two nights had been awful, Tom being clingy and still adjusting to his strangely needy body. “I’m not used to sleeping, or eating, or defecating. I don’t particularly like it, but I suppose that’s just what I got myself into.”

  


Tom had woken Chris up at least every two hours by shaking his arm or leg or speaking too loudly and telling him about what had just happened. 

  


“The grapes in the fridge were delicious, I ate the half the bag.”

  


“I fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up my stomach was rumbling so loudly. I still felt really hungry, so I ate the rest of the bag of grapes.”

  


“I watched some TV for a while, and then I had to rush to the bathroom,” Tom said, sounding sick. “I will remember to not eat a whole bag of grapes.”

  


It was like talking to an extremely cognitive 5-year-old up until about the third night, and finally Tom got a hold of himself. He started to use the bathroom regularly, he understood to eat in intervals and not wolf everything down at once, and he understood the importance of a good night’s rest.

  


The only problem about that last part was that Tom did  _ not  _ like sleeping on the couch, and instead took to sneaking into Chris’ queen bed right before Chris himself got in, taking up most of the space with his wings and falling asleep (apparently) before Chris could get a word in edgewise.

  


After a hard day’s work, Chris came out from the bathroom, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand from the toothpaste he had just used, seeing that Tom was sprawled out on his front with one wing tucked beside him and falling off the bed, the other akimbo on the other side of the mattress. Chris didn’t even have the energy to fight it that night, instead just pushing the wing aside and crawling underneath it and the blanket to lay on his back and  _ sleep _ .

  


The wing rested casually on his chest, the soft heartbeat and thrumming of blood obvious enough that Chris could feel it without really having to concentrate. The white feathers were soft and delicate, enough so that when Chris even barely grazed them against his skin, it have him shivers. There was barely any pressure behind each touch of the feathers, and before he knew it, Chris had one arm over the edge of Tom’s wing and was petting it.

  


Tom stirred slightly, shifting. Chris glanced over to him, seeing that Tom was wide awake with his stupidly bright eyes. A realization softly dawned on him.

  


“ Are you ever  _ actually _ asleep when I come to bed, or are you just fucking with me?”

  


Tom’s smile told him everything.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a week after Tom’s crash landing that Chris’ parents came over; they came over relatively frequently (twice or so a month) to have dinner with him. They would bring casserole of some sort so Chris didn’t have to cook too much even if he didn’t mind cooking.

 

Chris had yet to tell his parents about his new… roommate. He never got back to them about the crash site, because when he went out there the day after, the spot that he swore that Tom had landed in was completely filled up like nothing had ever touched it. Only a few feathers scattered the ground was the only real evidence that something had been there in the past few weeks, and the fact that there was now an angel running around his house wasn’t something easily broken to his parents.

 

Leonie and Craig knocked on the door, polite as ever, and Tom opened the door with a wide beam. His wings were tucked close to his body (he was getting better at making it so that he didn’t knock  everything over) and he let out a happy squeal.

 

“You two look even better than I thought you would! You’ve always loved Chris, and you’ve done such a good job with him -- !” Tom stopped short and bounced on his toes. He seemed absolutely oblivious to Chris’ parents shock. “Where’re my manners? Please, come in! Chris was shaving in the upstairs bathroom last I saw him, I’ll go get him!”

 

Tom rushed from the door, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Craig ushered them inside and sat them at the table, waiting pale-faced for Chris to explain.

 

\--

 

“An angel,” Leonie whispered, though Tom was on the other side of the table watching raptly, “fallen from the sky, and then… Just coming here? To be your guardian?”

 

“That’s what he said,” Chris plucked at the green beans on his plate, hunching over. “He’s been… a handful, but I don’t know what else to do with him. The wings are real. He flies around. He learned how to use the toilet and feed himself, and he does the dishes and laundry when they get too full.”

 

Meeting Chris’ eyes, Craig leaned forward on the table and glared firmly. “You’re not kidding.”

 

“No,” Chris said evenly.

 

“At all?”

 

“Not in the slightest.”

 

“This isn’t just some gay thing that you’re fucking with us about?”

 

Chris snorted and leaned back in his seat. He pushed off the ground with his heel and let himself rock back onto the back two legs of the chair. “No, it’s not some gay thing. He’s very real. He’ll  gladly show you that he can fly, he hasn’t gotten the chance to recently, I think.”

 

Tom was basically vibrating in his seat, all this talk about him. His fingers skittered along his knees and his eyes flickered back from Leonie to Craig, as if seeking their approval.

 

Leonie twirled her fork between her forefinger and thumb, looking over to Tom and meeting his eyes.

 

“Can you really fly?”

 

Tom nodded his head excitedly like an overeager puppy.

 

“So your wings are real?” Leonie questioned.

 

“Yes. Do you want to see?”

 

Chris watched as his mother was apprehensive for a moment, but she nodded. Tom sat up and shrugged off the awkwardly cut poncho-thing that Chris had made for him (because Tom really couldn’t put on a shirt with the wings in the way, and anything with sleeves or armholes really didn’t work for the same reason) and flipped around in his chair. He was careful to spread his wings out, the tips of his feathers at the end of his wings touching each side of the large room.

 

Tom breathed in and out slowly before glancing over his shoulder. Leonie seemed awestruck, and she was pinned in her seat.

 

“You can… touch if you like. I don’t mind. Chris was really curious the first time that he really looked at them, and he touched all over me--”

 

Chris made a loud clearing-his-throat sound, cutting Tom off, “I wasn’t touching all over you, I was touching the  wings . Don’t make it perverted, Big Bird.”

 

Tom giggle-snorted, but no one came closer to touch the wings or his back. Eventually, Tom’s wings tucked back into themselves and he slid on his poncho again, turning back around in his seat. Chris picked more at his food and Tom ate his own meal less nervously while his parents watched the two of them with complete shock. It didn’t take long for Craig to clear his throat and stand up from the table.

 

“Well. Um. Your mother and I should get back to the house. It’s getting late. I’ll give the guys a call tomorrow, it’s about time for us to do a bit of picking before any of the early-bloomers decide to go rotten.”

 

Chris nodded and waved his hand, “If you’re sure. I didn’t see anything that looked like it was--”

 

“ Yes, ” Leonie interrupted, and Chris realized that they were just looking for a way out of the situation. “We’ll see you another day. Please keep us updated on your little friend, here. Thank you for… letting us…”

 

Leonie stood and flattened out her shirt nervously.

 

Chris sat up with a suspicious look in his eyes, but he nodded. “Alright. I’ll call you all tomorrow. Drive home safe.”

 

Tom got up to show them to the door, but Chris’ hand touched his leg and he stilled instantly. Leonie and Craig gave a paranoid nod toward Tom and then bid the two of them goodbye, leaving behind the casserole dish and rest of their food, even leaving their plates, half-eaten, on the table.

 

\--

 

“Do they not like me?” Tom asked. 

 

Chris was sitting on the edge of the toilet next to the bathtub, rubbing shampoo into the tips of Tom’s wings because he couldn’t reach them himself and they were starting to get dirty. He paused for a second, looking down at the fraying feather before he shook his head. “I don’t know, Tom.”

 

“Why wouldn’t they like me? I thought everyone liked angels?”

 

Chris chuckled. “I don’t know, Tom. I really don’t know why they don’t like you. I think they’re just scared, and that’s why. They don’t see angels very often, and things that are different scare people. It’s not you, Tom. You’re just different.”

 

Tom leaned against the wall of the bathroom, looking over at Chris with a huff. “Well, you like me. Does that make you different?”

 

“Less so, but yes. I’m different, too.”

 

Chris continued to scrub the dirt out of Tom’s feathers for a while. Again, Tom broke the silence.

 

“Are you homosexual?”

 

“No,” Chris said easily.

 

“Are you heterosexual?”

 

“No.”

 

“Bisexual?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So you like boys  and  girls?”

 

Chris clicked his tongue. “Where is this going, Tom?”

 

Looking over, Tom smiled wide like he were hiding a secret “You know, being with an omnipotent being up in the sky doesn’t mean I know everything about you. Sometimes you just need to ask people!”

 

“That still doesn’t tell me where this is going.”

 

Tom laughed and pulled his wing back to his body, flapping it around awkwardly in the water before he turned to the side and leaned on the edge of the tub. “Your father… he said something about this being a  gay thing and I didn’t know what that meant. I know what gay means, and I know that, sometimes, people have odd sexual relationships with others that give them sexual gratification. I was wondering what your sexual preference are. I want to know you better, and not just going to Him and asking. I don’t think He would answer, anyway.”

 

Chris watched Tom for a while, the two of them just starting at one another with some curiosity in their eyes.

 

“I like both men and women, and… people. Genderfluid people, or agender. I like people. If they’re nice, and attractive, then I will probably be attracted to them, yes.”

 

“Oh,” Tom hummed. “That’s nice.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tom loved touching things. Chris would often finding him rubbing his hand along surfaces like the countertops of the kitchen, the pillowcases on the couch rough with embroidery, and touching Chris seemed to be his favorite.

 

Chris would let it happen, the soft fingertips brushing the hair on his arm or along his back with his shirt still on (or off, sometimes). Tom started to get more direct after a while, putting his hand on the flat of Chris’ back, or on Chris’ leg if they were in close enough quarters. It was rather cute to see how Tom would snuggle closer and closer each night because Chris hadn’t the heart to kick him out of bed after that night that Chris was petting his wing.

 

As mentioned previously, Chris had horses. Chris didn’t really take care of these horses, he owned the property and the animals themselves, but he had an old friend take care of them for him. She lived in the house down there year-round and took care of the horses and house. He paid her a salary and paid for half of the house’s expenses. It was really a rather small price to pay for her taking care of a large part of his income.

 

He tried to get Tom into the truck, but with his wings it really didn’t work. So Tom either flew or he rode in the back of the truck. Tom hadn’t been to see the horses yet, and with his enjoyment of _touching_ , Chris felt like it would likely be a good experience.

 

Tom loved the long flight. He glided most of the way there, following behind Chris’ truck kicking up dust on the makeshift truck path. Once they arrived, he landed on a soft patch of red earth and waited for Chris patiently to get out of his truck. He saw the house, a little beat up and a little run down, but it still looked quite livable. He had seen a few animals in the distance, as well, so high up in the sky, but they were too far to really make out any specific details. Chris seemed like he had wanted to be what was waiting for him to be a surprise, and though Tom was curious, he kept it to himself and let Chris have his fun.

 

Chris closed the door to his truck and walked over, hands shoved into his pockets and hat perched on the top of his head to keep the sun out of his eyes. Tom’s eyes glanced up and down him, noticing the way that the top button of his shirt was off, and his boots were wearing down at the toe like they had kicked one too many rocks out of the way.  He looked back up to Chris and smiled sweetly.

 

“How was the flight?” Chris asked softly.

 

“Lovely.”

 

“Good. Let me let Elsa know we’re here, then we’ll head out to the field, mhm?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Chris nodded and then headed over to the door of the house. He knocked a few times, and a short woman came out, dressed only in some overalls and a thin shirt. Her hair was done up in a braid and wrapped around itself into a bun. She looked tired, but happy. They spoke quietly, and her eyes glanced over Tom with some satisfaction. She didn’t seem shocked like Chris’ parents were - surprised, but not shocked. She looked like she was itching to touch, but too polite to ask right now.

 

Elsa laughed and shook her head before curling her hand into a fist and punching Chris in the chest, making him rock back onto his heels for a second. Tom’s chest stung a little, seeing the casual flirting, but he just patted her bicep and walked back over to Tom. Elsa jogged out in some slip-on clogs and opened the gate to the pasture before waving to Tom and heading back inside.

 

Chris shoved his hands back into his pockets and relaxed slightly. “She says she wants to meet you, but I told her we’re busy.” He shrugged his shoulders before jerking his head toward the other side of the house. Tom looked over, seeing under a tarp that there was a land rover sitting there.

 

They walked over and Chris tore off the tarp, waving his arm through the seats to get any spider webs out of the way, and banged his hand on the hood of it. A cat came scrambling out of the tire well, fur on end before slipping below a pile of wood with just enough space.

 

A cursory glance for any other dangerous things, Chris jumped into the driver’s side and offered Tom a seat next to him. “It might be weird with the wings and all, but if done right, we can get you there no problem.”

 

Tom was still relatively clueless to where _there_ was, but he brooked no argument. He opened the door and crawled into the seat. He wrapped his wings around himself, wings banging helplessly against the small dashboard, but he just smiled and let Chris start the rover to head out.

 

Chris stayed quiet as they headed into the fields, Tom watching as the dust was kicked up behind them, little bits of grass and other weeds jumping into the rover with them if hit just right. Some of Tom’s feathers were caught in the wind and were plucked out, carried off with the dust.

 

Interested in keeping the quiet, Tom sat up a bit straighter and looked out the window, trying to see where they were going. It seemed like Chris knew where he was going, though, so Tom wasn’t too concerned - he was just _curious._

 

His hand snuck out from between his feathers, touching Chris’ thigh as he watched the horizon, a few small silhouettes grazing in the distance. An excitement built up in his chest, vivid and warm.

 

“Almost there,” Chris murmured. He rested his hand momentarily on Tom’s before shifting gears and putting his hand back on the wheel.

 

Tom saw the horses nosing around in the grass, a few of them lying down and relaxing as others stood vigilant. Tom’s eyes lit up as they grew closer and closer, up until the horses saw they were coming their way. They started to trot over, circling the rover and sticking their heads inside the windows curiously.

 

Chris opened the door and headed to the back, opening it up to reveal a large barrel with water in it and a bail of hay. “Tom, come here. You can sit here and pet them while they drink.”

 

Already, horses were lining up to suck down the water from the barrel, hooves stepping carefully  around Chris’ feet. Tom nervously left the rover, going toward the back. He was visibly trembling with glee, mouth split wide into a smile. He walked around the front of the horses, slipping past them carefully and over to Chris. His hands were tucked carefully to his chest, eyes big as dinner plates. He glanced over to the water barrel, seeing two horses drinking from it thirstily.

 

Chris sat down between the hay and the water, watching Tom shiver. They stayed quiet for a moment before Tom covered his face with a laugh. “I’m so nervous, I can’t do it!”

 

“Can’t do what?”

 

“Touch them! They’re… so pretty. I just want to pet them, but I’m so nervous. What if they don’t like me?”

 

Chris looked incredulous. “What do you mean, they won’t like you? There’s food and water, you’re already getting points.”

 

Tom shook some more, but he shuffled toward Chris, away from the horses crowding them on either side.

 

Chris knew of kids who were afraid of horses, but that was easily broken. They were beautiful animals, but scary and big. Soft, gentle, smart. Chris furrowed his brow, concerned. Maybe this was more than just the horses. Maybe it was his parents, too, and being cast from Heaven or whatever it was. He got up with a soft huff and moved over to the horses near the water barrel. He reached out his hand to Tom with a small smile. “It’s okay, Tom. Here, let me help.”

 

He ran his hand over the horse’s shoulder, the flesh jerking instinctively to shake off any flies, but it was soft, and caked with dust to the very skin. Tom inched his way into Chris’ arms, Tom’s shoulder pressed tightly to Chris’ chest. Chris gently took Tom’s hand and brought it slowly to the horse’s body, fingertips running over the coarse hair and wiping off the dust.

 

Shaking like a leaf still, Tom’s eyes were wide and starting to fog with tears. He gently moved his hand along the horse’s ribs, feeling the muscles, the power, the life.

 

Chris let him feel for a while, wrapping an arm around his middle and just letting him cry as he pet the horses, one after the other.


	6. Chapter 6

Tom’s poncho lay on the dirt, forgotten there as he flew around the property for Chris. First, it was just a simple trip that Tom volunteered for to bring Chris’ parent’s dishes back to their house instead of Chris driving over in his truck. Tom had come back and stretched his wings wide with a happy squeak; he had arrived with a small basket of fruit from his parents and a small letter tucked between a few oranges apologizing for their rude behavior towards Tom and him.

 

Chris, however, was not going to treat Tom like a carrier pigeon, so he called his parents in thanks.

 

Tom _liked_ being a carrier pigeon. It was frustrating, but every time Chris tried to get in the car for something that would only take ten minutes or so, Tom would nearly beg to take over the errand, and Chris would give in. Tom visited Elsa a few times, and landed at his parent’s door more than that. It was like Chris didn’t have to leave his house for anything but to go check on the fields anymore.

 

Chris sat on his front porch with a glass of ice water, watching the poncho on the ground as he waited for Tom to come back.

 

Tom had been living with him for a month or so, now - Chris didn’t keep explicit track of that, but his mind did wander every once in awhile - and it was just starting to dawn on him:  when would Tom leave, if ever? Why had he come down here in the first place?

 

Tom had moments of looking… sad. Looking upset, lost. He prayed before every meal, and before bed, always seeming extra vigilant about it. His touches lingered, but he was drawn away quickly by something. Tom didn’t talk to him about anything but the present and the time that he had spent with Chris.

 

Chris took a long sip of his water, watching the sky and seeing in the distance the large figure of Tom with his wings spread, gliding his way.

 

Thinking back to the night that Tom had arrived, he remembered the deep gashes on his back, the way he was desperate for something in his stomach - he had eaten the leftovers and _dog food_ on the porch in a scramble. Maybe it would have been easier to explain to his parents that he had taken in a wounded homeless guy rather than an angel.

 

Why had he arrived like that? Why was it that he didn’t just materialize? Why didn’t he just… show up?

 

Sitting for a little longer, Tom circled overhead a few times, coming lower and lower before he shifted his body and made a soft landing. He picked up his poncho and dusted it off before heading back over to Chris. He was wearing a new set of cargo shorts instead of the large jeans that Chris had given him, and was looking a little refreshed.

 

Tom walked up onto the porch, smiling widely at Chris and taking a seat on the ground next to him. “Your parents enjoyed the visit, they say that you should come by sometime soon.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Chris took another drink from his glass before he offered his hand slowly to Tom. It took a second, but Tom took his hand in his own and beamed. They were quiet for a second.

 

“Chris?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Could you pray for me again? Like you did that night?”

 

Glancing over, Tom had that same kind of sadness, lost-ness in his eyes. Chris shook his head, setting down his glass. “What happened that night, Tom?”

 

Tom withered under the question, looking as if he hadn’t slept for days despite having slept more than Chris had the past few nights. His face paled and grew bruises under his eyes. Chris had never seen someone look so sad.

 

Tightening his grip, Chris spoke:  “What happened to you?”

 

Quietly, pleadingly, Tom murmured, “Chris, _please_ , pray for me.”

 

It didn’t really feel like he was praying for Tom - there was no big guy in the sky to look down at them at that moment. The porch was void from His gaze, there was something empty in the air, no comfort or gentle embrace of knowing that there was someone or something watching out for you.

 

In that second, Tom and Chris were out of sight, and out of mind.


	7. Chapter 7

In hindsight, Tom didn't regret falling. He knew that he was in the wrong, he knew that God would cast him out for his transgressions.

 

Tom didn't have a physical body until he had entered the atmosphere, until God had given him one. He had been generous enough to give him a physical body, instead of just letting him roam the earth. He was technically a fallen angel now, though he still felt God's ever-watching eye on him, vigilant.

 

His _transgressions_ were lust. Envy. He wanted a human body, he watched after so many humans but the way that Chris was, the way his soul looked, Tom wasn't able to resist. It overtook him and made him think, made him pliant enough to be contorted from this energy of humble holiness to a hunched being, watching from the sky with wide eyes.

 

Tom had felt the hands close around his wings and crunch beneath His palms, knuckles cracking as tendons slipped over bones, his feathers being crushed and fragile structure of his wings becoming nothing but dust. The last bits of his wings, his spirit, his grace, were plucked from his back and he wasn't able to stay any longer. The normally easy hold he had in his own space was now slipping, like being sucked down by sand, unable to grip anything and watching the space above start to fade.

 

There were no words spoken, no warnings. Tom knew –  _Thomas_ knew. He knew that humans were flawed, and these thoughts toward Chris were against what he was supposed to stand for. He was supposed to be balanced, he was supposed to relax into the arms of God and try to be mindless in the best way.

 

Blissfully unaware of the others floating around him, and of the terrible things of the purgatory of earth.

 

The sentinels were probably the ones who noticed him start to emerge from this  _coma_ of unthinking.

 

The landing was the easiest thing, the most painless thing. It wasn't a banishment, it was a falling out of grace. He could be forgiven, he could come back to Heaven, to the state of pleased sleepiness.

 

By the day, Thomas was more and more unsure if he wanted to go back. Thinking, eating, drinking, sleeping, all of these were sensations that he was growing used to, and though pain, sickness, and death were abundant, Tom felt more willing to stay on the planet, on the ground. The bad taste of Chris' parents being shocked, scared of him was soon overtaken by Chris' acceptance. Elsa's piqued curiosity and overjoyed excitement was something he reveled in like sunshine. When his parents finally warmed, he cried with joy.

 

The world around him was beautiful, more beautiful because it was  _flawed_ , just like Tom was. Tom was flawed, he was not cut from the same fabric of most angels, he was not so faithful that he turned his head away from the curiosities that riddled the world, that riddled Hell.

 

Tom felt more pleasure when Chris touched his hand or his arm, when Chris showed him kindness, than if he had been touched by God himself. Tom felt such mixed emotions, being jerked from side to side he got whiplash.

And the  _horses_ .

 

Chris prayed, taking Tom's hands in his own, and Tom felt as if that vigilant eye turned away for a moment, but the world was not empty. It was private, but they were not alone. The crickets chirped, the air was crisp with mid-day, dry heat. Chris' hands were in his own, and Tom felt something better than his grace inside of him:

 

Tom felt human.

 

 

 

Chris waited patiently for Tom to come to him with the stor y .  It took days, and while it nagged the back of Chris' mind, he wouldn't push. He knew that any decent person wouldn't push to hear a trauma that someone wasn't willing to give. They slept during the night, Tom inching closer and closer until he tucked his wings awkwardly behind him and draped an arm over Chris' chest, and worked during the day.

 

Out in the field, Tom dug his toes into the dark earth, looking at Chris as he meandered through the small tilled rows to check the crops. His wings fluttered in the breeze. It was a better time than any, the truck in the distance, with no one around for miles.

 

The weight of his words were hard to push up out of his stomach, but he called out to Chris.

 

“I was kicked out.”

 

Half turning, Chris' eyes wandered the crops still, but signaled that he was listening. When the words registered, Chris nearly whipped to attention. His shoulders tensed, and Tom could see the whites of his eyes even from this distance.

 

“What?” Chris shouted back.

 

“I was kicked out. From Heaven. Not permanently, but… for now.”

 

Tom's arm crossed his belly and he grabbed onto his bicep. He swallowed hard and looked down at the dirt.

 

“Do you want to head back and talk about it?” Chris asked. A little wind picked up, chilling the air for a _moment_ , then turning back to the near blistering heat.

 

“No,” Tom said. “No, here is fine.”

 

Chris stepped over row after row of the soybeans, finally close enough to reach out and put his hand gently on Tom's arm. He didn't push, but Tom seemed like on the precipice of speaking. He waited patiently.

 

“Envy, mainly. Lust, too, but… You. It was like waking up for the first time in centuries. Hibernating for so long, coming back to yourself and realizing that there's more to life than just sleeping and having nice dreams.”

 

Tom glanced up to look at Chris. “I do love… you. I love you. It's intense, and scary, and I just want you to know that. I feel so scared sometimes, and I don't want anyone to know.”

 

“You don't have to hide,” Chris whispered. “You don't have to keep it all in.”

 

Tom's eyes watered and he let out a small hiccup. “I love you so much. Even now, even when I've seen you in person, it makes me think that maybe  _this_ is Heaven, that God has thrown me down here to enjoy myself rather than learn a lesson.”

 

Chris' hands came up and cupped Tom's cheeks, shaking his head.

 

“I won't go into the whole… _God works in mysterious ways_ shit, but sometimes you can learn a lesson while enjoying yourself. Not all lessons can be learned through turmoil, Tom.”

 

Tom's mouth was dry, and he felt his heart thumping. “I'm so scared, Chris. I don't know what's going to happen! How – how can you  _live_ like this?” Tom laughed humorlessly. “It's awful, and beautiful, and it's such an experience.”

 

Slowly, Tom's eyes came up to look at Chris. He felt like a weight on the world, heavy as a rock. A presence he wasn't able to rid himself of, a constant gravity.

 

Chris' mouth touched his softly, staying there for a long while. A kiss. And then another, and another. Closed-mouth, chaste and lovely. Tom's hands found Chris' neck, pulling him close and kissing him back, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

 

“Shh, shh,” Chris hushed, petting Tom's hair. “It's okay. I don't know what else to say but it's okay, Tom.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chris didn’t know why he kissed Tom, but it just seemed like it was the right thing to do. Tom’s tears were dropping down his cheeks and shimmering, his eyes impossibly blue and mouth quivering. He was shaking like a leaf, his wings dropped impossibly low, and he looked so _sad_. Chris lurched into action, gripping Tom’s jaw and kissing him, pressing his mouth softly but desperately to try and stop his sobs. He shushed him, thumbed his jaw, nosed his cheek; he wouldn't give Tom's sadness the satisfaction of staying.

 _Kicked out_ , Tom had said. Kicked out, like he had broken a rule. Chris wrapped his arms around Tom's body, pulling him close so that their chests and stomachs were flush. Tom crumpled and fell to his knees, Chris following him every inch of the way.

Chris continued to hold him, closing his eyes and pressing kisses to the top of Tom's head. Tom's wings fluttered uselessly against the dirt, kicking up earth everywhere and staining the nice white feathers brown. He sobbed until he felt sick.

 

Chris picked him up after about an hour of sitting on the ground, hiking him up so his legs were around his waist and was sitting mainly on his hip. Chris wrapped his arms around his rear and pulled him up far enough he was able to grab onto his own wrists. Tom still snuffled and held on, arms wrapped listlessly around Chris' neck, but he walked them to the truck and set Tom in the bed of it.

It took very little time to get back to the house, but by that time Tom was relatively okay again. He rubbed his face and laughed as bugs _plink_ ed off the windshield. Chris had his hand on the outside of the cab, and Tom took hold of it gently.

Walking up the front steps, Tom seemed like he was doing much better, but Chris felt like there was still something knotting in his stomach. He didn't know what Tom was going through, and he knew he would never know, but…

Tom looked back at him, eyes still dimly sorrowful, but his joy was leaking through like his soul was overflowing with it. Chris felt like he was staring into the ocean, seeing all of the good and bad things swimming by. Tom tilted his head slightly, curiously.

“What?” he asked.

Chris let out a soft laugh. It was like talking to a puppy who knew nothing of the world, but he knew that Tom probably knew more than he did. “Nothing. Are you okay?”

It took a second, but Tom replied: “No. But are any of us?”

“Touché.”

 

Chris' parents came over for dinner, and by Tom's insistence, Chris and he cooked dinner. They did bring a tin of cookies, because Leonie and Craig were like that, but they allowed them this. Tom wasn't an awful cook, though he had only really learned how to cook eggs and make sandwiches, but with a little guidance from Chris, they made baked chicken and vegetables with rice.

Cooking with Chris was a wonderful experience, and Tom loved touching Chris' hands when he got to help. Chris didn't particularly trust him with sharp objects, but he helped Tom with the knife, standing behind him and guiding the knife and vegetables slowly while Tom did most the work. The intimacy of it was unbearable, and Tom's wings often got in the way, but Chris would just hook an arm over or tuck the top of it under his chin so he could still see, making the situation work.

When Chris' breath brushed the side of his face, Tom's heart sped and his palms got a little ache-y. His nerves practically became sparklers, sending all sorts of feelings through Tom. He turned his head slightly, meaning to look at Chris, maybe…

The timer for the chicken went off, startling them both out of the embrace.

Tom carefully set the dish on the table, taking off his oven mitts and setting them to the side, looking down with bright eyes. Leonie and Craig both praised him, the former more enthusiastically, but they all sat down. Chris poured his parents some red wine and took a small glass for himself.

“Do you want any, Tom?” Leonie asked. Chris blinked, surprised; he hadn't even thought to offer him any.

“I've never really tried any alcohol. What does it taste like?” Tom grinned.

Chris looked at the bottle like it was completely foreign to him. He somehow thought Tom was some kind of… _child_ , almost, too pure or too young to have alcohol. It was the same way he treated his little brother when he wasn't young enough, going “No, when you're older” and taking a huge swig out of a beer bottle. But Tom was, _technically_ , of age.

“It kind of tastes like fruit juice, but it has… it's more sour. It tastes good.” Leonie smiled,

Laughing, Tom nodded. “Sure, I'll try a little.”

He reached out and touched Chris' glass, and waited for Chris' permission. Chris looked over and licked his teeth for a second, but nodded. “Just a little.”

Taking the glass, Tom sipped at it, nose crinkling at the smell and shivering sourly at the taste. He shook his head and set down the glass fast. “That's… so bitter!”

Snorting, Craig shook his head. “It's like when we fed Liam his first lemon.”

Chris took his glass back, watching Tom lick his napkin with vigor to try to get the taste to go away. His parents laughed over old stories, but it was like Chris was in a trance, watching Tom learn all these things, though he had to be the wisest one in the room.

Tom noticed the intense gaze, glancing over to Chris for a moment as though he was caught in a spotlight. He paused, a quick, burning thing in his chest as Chris' eyes darkened slightly. Tom's fingers were caught in his own mouth, his poncho riding up his belly to show off a bit of skin. His feet skittered on the floor nervously, hair wild, in need of a bath; yet, Tom felt beautiful under Chris' gaze.

They stayed like that for a second too long, then Chris' eyes flicked away casually, picking up his wine and taking a large sip, continuing the conversation with his parents.

 

“Tom, could you go load up the dish washer? I'm going to walk my parents out to their car,” Chris hummed, and Tom smiled sweetly and disappeared into the kitchen.

Craig slapped Chris on the back and laughed at him as they walked out the front door. “So, _now_ is it a gay thing?”

“ _No_ ,” Chris scoffed. “No, it's… it's not like that.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Chris felt his dad pat his back more in a parental, loving motion. Leonie's hand found his elbow and they walked to the car. Leonie leaned against Chris softly. “You can tell us what's wrong, honey. We're not going to judge you.”

“I _know_ , I know. It's… I don't know how to explain it to you guys without it sounding like a _gay thing._ ”

Craig crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently. He would often use this technique with Chris and his brothers when they weren't telling him something, and his patience would outlast any of theirs. Chris broke easily.

“We kissed, out on the soybean fields. He told me about how he came down, how he _fell_ and I couldn't help myself. It was like… like something clicked, and I just needed to. He's wonderful, Dad.”

Silence hung over them for a second before Leonie burst out in giggles, Craig following suit. “We know, sweetie. He loves you. He's expressed it so many times while he was over, and he just couldn't get enough of seeing you in Luke's wedding photos.” Leonie rested her hand on Chris' forearm with warm eyes.

“He won't shut up about you,” Craig hummed, “It doesn't matter how he came down from Heaven, it just matters that he's here, and he's making you happy. You're making him happy, too.”

Chris' words were stuck in his throat, unable to thank them properly. He hugged them tight and tapped their trunk as they disappeared down the dirt road.

 

Tom was waiting for him as finally entered the house again. Kisses were laid on his face like crazy, lips pummeling his and making him laugh. “W-what are you doing, Tom?!” Chris pushed at Tom's waist, trying to pull him away, but Tom was persistent.

“I put away the dishes, and every time you looked at me or touched me tonight, it was like there was lightning. I can't explain it. It was weird, but I want to know what it is.” Tom's mouth was pressed to his firmly.

Chris snorted, turning his head to the side. “Tom! Tom, relax.”

“Is this lust?” Tom wondered aloud, “Is this what it's like to feel sexual attraction? When I was looking,” kiss, “watching from above, it was like there was something hot in my chest, but it was nothing like this.”

Chris turned his head the other way, trying to escape his kisses. “Do I need to give you the sex talk, or something?” he chuckled.

Tom dropped back and looked at Chris, eyes searching. Chris' smile dropped from pleased to concerned quickly.

“Do I?” his voice dropped to a soft sound.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birds and the bees don't go exactly as planned...

Chris grabbed some old anatomy books from his parent's house and rented a few books from a library a bit out of the way – but it was for a good cause. Tom needed to know this stuff.

It had been a little concerning the way that Tom knew what sex was, and he knew the principle of it, but he had no lust for so long, he really didn't understand the _feel good_ part of it. Chris knew how to (hah) rectify that, though he wasn't going to give a flat-out demonstration without some context.

Chris dropped the books down onto the dinner table already set for two and rested his hand atop them. “These are for you,” he announced. Tom blinked up at him, his poncho on sideways and his hair a mess. His wings fluttered slightly as he bowed his head to look.

“What are they?” Tom asked.

“They're for your sexual education. The birds and the bees – all that.”

The words felt funny coming out of his mouth like he was talking to some child and not some angel who probably knew more about the concept of sex than he did and he was more than willing to bone. Chris cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head. “If you're interested,” his voice was softer that time.

“Oh, oh, yes. Of course I'm interested! You went out of your way to get me these. This one says library – you went to a library for this?” Tom's eyes nearly sparkled with how much joy filled him at the thought that Chris had put work into something.

Chris put work into everything, Tom thought, but it was truly spectacular when it was for him.

“Well, yeah,” Chris said nonchalantly. He shrugged before sitting down at the table. Nervously, his eyes shifted from the books to Tom a few times before he cleared his throat.

Tom leaned forward eagerly and slid the books toward himself. He flipped open the first hardcover and glanced through the first few pages quickly. “A-ha. This will...” Looking back up to Chris, his eyes lingered on his mouth for a moment too long before meeting his eyes. He smiled shyly. “Help.”

Chris' heart fluttered in his chest and he wanted to let out a garbled moan at the way Tom looked at him. Hungry. “I hope so.”

 

 

The next few days were filled with the most awkward encounters he'd ever experienced. Tom would have his nose stuck in a book for most of the day, but when he didn't he would randomly show up and start exploring his body – his hands touching and mouth latching, surprising Chris and drawing him away abruptly from any work he was doing. In the middle of the fields, checking on crops, Tom would drop down from the sky and nearly tackle Chris over. He would ask sweetly, “ _May I?_ ” and get his always-yes, then let his hand drift down between Chris' legs, kissing along Chris' jaw to his ear. It was _pleasant_ , of course, Tom never had a wrong touch (yet!) but it was just startling.

Chris took to sleeping on the far side of the bed or even on the couch when Tom was getting too touchy. The whole thing was something that Chris wanted – just _Tom_ in general – but he felt like he needed to wait. A precipice or an awakening in Tom hadn't happened yet, he could feel it somewhere in the back of his head, tickling the back of his neck with just enough awareness to make him think about it.

Tom nuzzled in close that night, toes touching Chris' calf and cupping his neck. He wasn't asleep quite yet, but he was drifting by the way that he kept making pleased little noises. Chris pulled Tom a little closer with the arm under Tom's waist, turning his head to press a kiss to his eyebrow.

“..Mm?” Tom hummed blissfully.

Chris felt his stomach twist with affection as he smiled and turned on his side to face toward Tom. He nosed along his hairline and hummed back. Rubbing Tom's lower back, letting Tom's feathers brush against his arms, he watched as the angel's eyes slowly opened to peer back at him.

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” Tom grumbled.

Chris shrugged slightly, but Tom just huffed and ruffled his wings. A few feathers swirled into the air and floated down onto the hardwood floor.

Tom's fingers trailed their way down his back and to Chris' rear, smiling at Chris' startled giggle. “You have such a nice butt, Chris,” Tom laughed.

He carefully let his hands run back up Chris' back and settle down at the waistband of Chris' boxers. His eyes were downcast, lashes beautifully long in the moonlight, as he asked: “May I..?”

Chris' heart jumped into his throat, but he let out a wispy _yes._ Tom's hand slipped between untanned skin and elastic, fingers feeling over delicate hairs and groping with his entire palm. Chris' back arched, mainly unused to the contact, but it didn't feel bad; in fact, it felt good. He tucked his face into the side of Tom's curls, huffing with humor.

Tom's fingertips dipped into the cleft of his ass, feeling along the furled hole and down between his legs. Tom was breathing harder, a curious determination behind all of his touches, and Chris was trying his hardest not to squeeze his legs shut and flip onto his back. Tom was innocently… well, no, not innocently, but Tom was exploring what they had explicitly laid out for the future. _Birds and the bees, all that._ Tom pressed soft kisses to Chris' neck as he pulled one hand around to Chris' front. He let his palm smooth along his stomach before he started to feel for his groin, slowly.

“May I?” Tom asked, and Chris nodded with a snort. Always so polite.

Chris felt Tom's hand feel him through his boxers, and he shuddered out a gasp at the contact. He was half-hard from the ass-groping, but with Tom's hand there his blood headed south. He hadn't even been able to touch himself recently with Tom around him almost every moment. Showers were quick and quiet, while work kept him busy most the day. Tom's touch on his cock felt _awesome_.

Tom was startled for a moment at the sound, his hand pulling back. Chris gripped at Tom's sides and pulled him in closer. “No, no, it's good, keep going.”

Cautiously, Tom pressed his hand back to Chris' cock, feeling the shape of it beneath the flimsy fabric. It was relatively large, and Tom was trying to apply what he read in his books to now, but it didn't add up. Erections, blood, tissue, pleasure, yet all of those terms were nothing in the face of… _this_. He didn't know what to do from here.

Tom pushed himself back, pressing his forehead to Chris' and whispering, “What do you want me to do?”

Chris let out a soft moan, and it sent a strange shiver up Tom's spine. “God, anything.”

Well, that didn't help. Tom pushed Chris onto his back and shuffled up closer to him. “Tell me what to do. I don't know what to do.”

Blinking back to reality, Chris turned his head to look at Tom. “Oh,” he dropped his head back and grinned. “That's fine. I...” Chris laughed as he tugged on Tom's waist again. “Get on top of me. Just kiss me.”

Tom easily rolled on top of him, wings tucking against his back as he pressed his chest to Chris'. He kissed his nose sweetly before pecking at his lips. The kissing was smooth and chaste, Chris running his hand over Tom's back and around the base of his wings. Tilting his head slightly, Chris tongued at Tom's lower lip, getting a squeak in surprise.

“Open your mouth a little,” Chris murmured, and leaned back in to kiss him more. Tom did as he was asked, feeling Chris' tongue sweep across the sensitive and silky part of Tom's lower lip, the bottom row of his teeth being nudged very slightly and sending shivers down Tom's spine.

He settled his weight more firmly, feeling Chris' erection press into the crease of his thigh. It felt warm, and firm. Chris' appreciative rumble only fueled him further.

They kissed more, Chris' hands now lingering at the base of Tom's spine, knees pulled to box Tom close. Tom was getting the hang of kissing, much to Chris' pleasure, and Tom started to shuffle his hands down Chris' sides. Tom grabbed at Chris' forearms and steered his hands to Tom's rear, smiling brightly.

“You sure?” Chris asked.

“Yes! Why else would I do that?”

Chris shrugged, and had multiple answers for it, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Tom's ass was nice, to say the least. There was definite muscle beneath the nice layer of pillow-y cushion, and Chris gripped it hardily and pulled Tom forward to kiss him harder.

It was amazingly intimate, feeling Chris' body pressed against his own like this, and he wanted more, like he wanted them to melt together. He'd been able to do that a little in heaven – that overlapping of souls that didn't exactly make sense, but it didn't have to. It was a good feeling, and Tom pressed his chest against Chris' as if pushing harder would do the trick.

Chris' hips jumped and he moaned raggedly as his cock slid hotly against the defined line of Tom's hip. He dropped his head back and ground his groin against Tom's, biting his lip. Tom's hand cupped the side of his head, thumbing at his cheek and stubble – God, did that feel good. Chris turned his head and wrapped his lips around Tom's thumb, sucking and running his tongue across the pad of it. Tom's thumb pressed down, opening his mouth. Chris barely opened his eyes, seeing Tom's eyes wide and curious, thumb probing and hips grinding down slightly.

“Fuck,” Chris gasped around the digit. His fingers dug in tightly to Tom's ass, dragging him against his cock with a sigh. He mumbled, “I'm gon'na die if I don't cum, Tom.”

Tom's eyes widened and he pulled his hand back quickly. “Die?!”

Ah, yes. Chris laughed and tilted his head back as he did so. He was still so flustered, and every little twitch and movement from Tom made him want to just flip them over. He let his hands rest on Tom's waist as he shook his head and giggled. “No, no – Tom, I didn't mean literally. I'm just so… I want you, so bad.”

Still a little skeptical, Tom rested his hands on Chris' chest. “What … what can I do?”

It took a moment, but Chris pulled Tom up onto his knees and kissed him again, letting his hands move down to his crotch. He slipped his hands beneath the band and wrapped a hand around his dick and one around his balls, beginning to stroke himself with a sigh. Chris breathed heavily as Tom's wings fluttered between his knees, Tom's sweet kisses pressed on the corners of his mouth, and Tom's hands stroked his neck and chest.

“ _Chris_.”

He came, orgasm washing over him like a tsunami. He felt it all the way in his throat, curling his toes and feeling his cum start to stick to his underwear as he moaned weakly. Tom's kisses stopped for a moment, hands clamoring over his chest, but Chris just sunk into the feeling further.

It took a moment, but Tom cupped his jaw in both of his hands and tilted his face up. “Chris? _Chris?_ ”

“Tom,” Chris huffed, pulling the last few times at his cock before resting his hands gently down. “Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Tom looked down and then back up worriedly.

Chris opened his eyes slowly while looking confused. “I'm fine, sweetheart,” he said sleepily. He pulled his hands out of his underwear and wiped them on the sheets. “C'mere, do you need help?”

Reaching down, Chris skimmed his knuckles against Tom's belly before his wrist was caught tightly. Tom looked scared. “That sounded painful. Did that hurt? What happened? Nothing in my books said anything about _pain,_ Chris!”

It took a second, but Chris sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position, letting Tom sit on his thighs. Chris tucked a finger under his chin and smiled sweetly. “It didn't hurt. Let me tell you what happened. I should have done this in the first place...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my tumblr!](http://uruhead.tumblr.com/)


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